


alternative methods for stress relief

by weatheredlaw



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crushes, Explicit Language, F/F, Kissing, M/M, RvB Fluff Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 21:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14120886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: Jax turns to Dylan. “...So that’s why you come here?”Dylan stands. “What are you talking about?”“Uh, hello? The only way that could have gottenmoresexual is if you licked her exposed calf or something. You look like you’re starving. It’s, uh. It’s kinda pathetic, actually.”





	alternative methods for stress relief

**Author's Note:**

> for rvb fluff week, and tumblr user joooules <3

Carolina gets lunch with Wash most weekends, when they can both spare a few hours. It’s usually close to the gym where she works, and it’s always the same thing. She orders a salad, dressing on the side, and an iced tea. Wash orders something purposefully awful, deep friend or otherwise, and a _root beer_.

She watches him dip his fries in fry sauce, sticking out her tongue. “ _Yech._ I _get it_ , Wash. You have an overactive metabolism.”

“Who comes to a burger place and orders a _salad_?” he asks, stealing a cherry tomato from her bowl. “You’re like an alien.”

“It’s a lifestyle.”

He gestures to his plate. “So is this.” Picking up his burger, he says, “How’s work today?”

“Not terrible.” Carolina rips a sweetener packet and stirs it into her tea. “Started teaching a new spin class.” She rolls up the packet and tosses it at him. “You should take it.”

“No _thanks_. I tripped over the projector chord Friday morning, so I’m good on public humiliation.” Wash takes a bite of his burger. “Maybe this summer.”

“Liar,” Carolina mutters, but not unkindly. Wash grins and tosses a few fries into her salad bowl.

“Come on, coach.” He eats two himself. “Live a little.”

* * *

Carolina loves teaching these classes. She loves getting in front of people and yelling and sweating and bossing them around. Feels good. Her shrink always reminds her that this isn’t therapy. That it _can be_ , but it isn’t a replacement for talking about how she’s feeling and working things out. Teaching the classes is part of her balance thing, part of keeping her head above water.

It’s actually...working. She turned forty-one the month before and Carolina can’t remember being as happy in her twenties as she is right now.

She likes her kickboxing class the most. It was always _her_ favorite thing to do when she was taking classes, so teaching one is incredibly cathartic. The sound of gloved hands hitting the bag, of heavy breathing. Carolina can close her eyes in a class and just sort of fall away.

And then, of course — there’s her.

It’s not professional, not by a long shot. Getting involved with clients and patrons isn’t against the rules, but Carolina knows it’s not a good idea.

And besides, Dylan is _way_ too young for her.

“How _young_ are we talking?” Wash asks one Saturday. “Like, she’s nineteen and too young for you, or she’s twenty-five and too young for you? Because it’s different.”

“I have no idea, Wash. I didn’t go up to her and say, ‘I like the way your ass looks in those leggings, how old are you?’” She steals an onion ring from his plate. “Besides, it’s not...appropriate. I’m her teacher.”

Wash snorts. “It’d be inappropriate for _me_ to date a student. You teach a class she pays eighteen bucks a week for—”

“Thirty-five, actually.”

Wash _chokes._ “Jesus _Christ._ ” He wipes his mouth on a napkin. “Okay, _fine._ You teach a class where you both get to be sweaty and _sexy_ and make grunting noises and roll around on mats and—” He stops. Clears his throat. “Wow, my whole mouth just filled with saliva. Uh, sorry, why can’t you hit on her again?”

Carolina rolls her eyes. “Come on, if I did, and she left the gym? I’d get in huge trouble.”

“Isn’t your manager, like, twenty?”

“Yeah, his dad owns the place.” She takes a drink of her tea. “I can’t,” she says. “It’s just...it’s not in the cards.”

 

* * *

 

Dylan takes a kickboxing class because being in graduate school is _hell._ Her winter break? She worked. Her spring break? She’s going to work. The only thing keeping her going is the fact that she’s due to hear back from PBS in March, and even though it’s a longshot, and even though she’s been told by a hundred people that she’s not competitive enough, or not qualified, or not _good enough_ — Dylan thinks that’s bullshit, and she’s put pretty much every egg she has in one basket.

Well, except one. There’s the internship with Interstellar Daily, which is a _good_ news company, and would be a really great position for her. It’s also a safety net, a place to hang her anxieties about PBS.

But, when she’s not thinking obsessively about her future, or about the editing she needs to do, or the exams she needs to grade — she’s in Carolina’s class, sweating it out.

It’s good, it’s _really_ good.

And it doesn’t hurt that Carolina is... _also_ very good.

She’s tall and _built_ , with red hair that falls out of the ponytail _effortlessly_ , like some kind of _goddess._ Dylan is enraptured, she is _endeared_ , she is in _love._ Carolina moves around the room and fixes their form and Dylan both lives for and fears those moments, when Carolina’s hands brush her hips and right her posture.

“Bring it _in_ , Andrews.”

“...Right.” Dylan nods, tries _not_ to feel the buzz leftover when Carolina’s fingers touch the exposed skin of her waist after her tank top rides up.

It’s so _good_ , but it’s also literal hell because she knows Carolina is older, that she’s out of Dylan’s league, that Dylan is too young and too stupid and too much of a _disaster_ to hold her own with someone like that.

But _damn_ if it isn’t nice to think about.

* * *

“ _So._ This is where you spend basically all of your free time.” Jax looks around the gym appreciatively. “It’s nice!”

“I do not spend _all_ of my free time here,” Dylan says. “Just a hour every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday.” She clears her throat. “Can we just go? I don’t want to be late for class.”

“Right, right. Okay, so it’s kick... _boxing._ Are there boxes involved?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you _ever again._ Stop it.” Dylan opens the door to Carolina’s classroom. “You can take the one next to me, it’s usually empty.”

“Great! You know. I _love_ that we’re doing this. It’s so awesome. It’s like we’re bonding, and it beats grading papers, am I right?”

Dylan sighs. “Yes, Jax. It does.” She sets down her bag and pulls out the wraps for her hands, showing Jax how to do it properly.

“Hey, Andrews. You brought a friend.”

Dylan looks up, and Carolina is standing just in front of the light streaming through the windows, surrounding her with a sort of holy glow. Dylan stares for a full three seconds before nodding like an idiot. “Uh, yes. This is my friend Jax—”

Jax waves. “Hello!”

Carolina smiles. “Great. You ever taken a kickboxing class, Jax?”

“Nope! But I’m super jazzed to be here and learn about it.”

“Well, that’s all I can really ask for. Except from you, Andrews. Keep those arms tight today, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After Carolina is on the other side of the room, Jax turns to Dylan. “...So _that’s_ why you come here?”

Dylan stands. “What are you talking about?”

“Uh, hello? The only way that could have gotten _more_ sexual is if you licked her exposed calf or something. You look like you’re _starving._ It’s, uh. It’s kinda pathetic, actually.”

Dylan kicks him.

 

* * *

 

Carolina’s been guarding a table in the corner of the bar for fifteen minutes when Wash finally shows up, new boyfriend in tow.

“This is Tucker,” he says. “He’s the industry supervisor for the robotics club.”

Carolina shakes his hand. “Hi. I’m Carolina and I don’t know what most of that means.”

“It means I’m smarter than him,” Tucker says, earning him a swift kick in the shin from Wash. “Nice to meet you. You guys want drinks? There’s a good porter on special.”

Carolina nods. “Sounds good,” she says. When Tucker is out of earshot, she turns to Wash and asks, “How _old_ is he?”

Wash leans back. “Uh, twenty-six? Twenty-seven? What’s the big deal, what is with you lately?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

Wash raises a brow, then grins. “Oh, I get it. You’re, uh. You’re hung up on that girl. Dylan something.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you kinda are.”

Tucker comes back with their drinks. “What’s up, what are you two woofin’ about?”

Wash moves so Tucker can sit next to him and points at Carolina. “There’s a woman in her kickboxing class and she’s _absolutely_ into her, but won’t do anything about it.”

Tucker snorts. “What, why?”

“Uh, she’s too young, apparently.” Wash takes a drink. “Wait, how old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“There, see? It’s fine.” Wash bumps Tucker with his shoulder. “She’s, what, twenty-three?”

“Twenty-four,” Carolina mutters. Wash raises a brow. “I looked at her registration paperwork. Look, it’s not about the age thing, okay?”

“Nah, it’s about _your_ age.” He glances between Carolina and Wash. “Aren’t I right? Like you’re forty and you’re uncomfortable because you’re not _old_ , but you’re not twenty-something anymore.” He takes a long drink. “I get it. I mean, I don’t, but. I get it.” He points at Carolina. “Anyway, you’re missing the biggest point here. You’re her _instructor_. This nerd is a _teacher._ It’s totally different. You can hook up with her.”

“It’s not that I’m not allowed, I just don’t think—”

“Alright, alright, _look._ You have to start thinking of this a totally different way. Don’t think of it like you’re sad and forty and she’s very cool and twenty-four. Think of it as you’re her athletically superior fitness friend and you’re alone in the gym after hours and the lights are low and you _fuck_ on the _mats._ ”

Carolina and Wash _both_ stare at him.

Wash puts a hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “You watch too much porn, man.”

“What, you’ve never fucked your yoga instructor?”

“Uh, no,” Wash says. “I have never fucked my yoga instructor.”

Tucker grins. “ _Well._ We gotta get you enrolled in one of my classes.” He leans in and Carolina has to watch them make out until she downs the rest of her beer and sets the glass down on the table, _hard._ Tucker laughs. “Man, you _really_ need to get laid.”

Carolina rolls her eyes and turns away from them. It’s really an accident that she sees Dylan at all, coming into the bar with a group of people. She turns back to Wash and Tucker quickly, leaning in close to the table.

Wash taps the top of her head. “ _Hey._ ”

Carolina looks at him. “It’s _her._ ”

“What?”

“ _Her_ , Wash.” She jerks her head toward the bar.

Wash sighs. “Carolina, I’ve never _seen her_ in my entire life.”

Tucker cranes his neck. “Uh, is she the one with the big glasses?”

Carolina sits up. “... _Yes_. How did you know?”

“Eh.” Tucker shrugs. “She seemed like your type.” He finishes his beer. “You should get us another round, on me.” He hands her a ten. “Go on, get in there. Mix it up.”

Carolina grabs the money. “I will get drinks, but I’m not talking to her.”

“Oh come _on_ ,” Wash says. “Just _do it._ ”

Carolina stands. “I _hate it_ when you have a boyfriend,” she says. “I really do.”

She gets up and heads toward the bar to order another round, trying to keep her voice low and her head down. The bartender can’t hear her, though, so she finally has to yell, “ _Three of the porter specials_ —” and can exactly pinpoint the moment Dylan turns her head toward the bar.

“Carolina?”

Carolina turns and smiles, trying to embody that cool, casual person she is when Dylan is in her classes. “Hey,” she says, and she’s pleased when her voice comes out smooth and easy. “What’re you doing here?”

“Celebrating, a little. We all just finished a big presentation.”

“That’s great. Do you have a drink yet?”

“No, I—”

“Let me get you one,” Carolina says. “If that’s alright.”

“Oh! Uh, sure. Yeah.” Dylan orders a gin and tonic and Carolina hands over the rest of Tucker’s cash. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The bartender sets the porters in front of her. “I’ve got some friends to get back to, but I’ll see you in class on Sunday, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

“Sounds good. Catch you later, Andrews.”

“Uh, yeah. You, too.”

When Carolina gets back with the drinks, Wash looks at her expectantly.

“What happened?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“Nothing?” Tucker looks over at Dylan. “You spent the rest of my _money_ on her, that’s not _nothing._ ”

“Hey you _gave it_ to me.”

“Oh, I’m not mad, I just don’t get why you’re over here with us and not over there with her.”

“Because,” Carolina says, and settles back in her seat. “It’s just...it’s not the right time.” She does glance back over toward Dylan every so often, wondering what it might be like to be the one she meets there, the one she introduces to her friends. It’s a nice thought, and the only one that really keeps her properly distracted when Tucker sticks his tongue down Wash’s throat.

* * *

Carolina’s last class on Sunday is right before close, and she’s usually the one to lock up the building. She’s never thought about this before right this second, but as she’s watching Dylan pack her bag, she thinks that it would be so easy to ask her to stay, to give her a couple of pointers and maybe...maybe tell her how she feels.

_I think you’re beautiful._

_I think about you all the time._

It’s stupid, it’s _wild_ , but her brain is working overtime, her gears are spinning like mad, and all she wants is to take Dylan by the hand and kiss her, pull her bottom lip between her teeth, lick the sweat from where it’s cooling on her neck. Carolina realizes she’s staring, and goes back to cleaning up the room. Dylan stands by the door and calls out, “Have a good night, Carolina.”

Carolina looks up. She swallows.

It’d be easy.

It’d be _so easy._

She hears herself say, “You, too, Andrews. See you next week,” and goes back to her work.

 

* * *

 

Dylan misses kickboxing class for an entire week.

The entire _experience_ makes her feel a little out of sorts, which Jax says may be a sign that she’s too attached to the whole thing, needs, like, a hobby, or something.

“It _is_ my hobby,” she snaps. She’s been grading and grading and _grading_ , and he’s an hour late, she’s exhausted, and all she wants to do is just get out of here. She picks up her stack of exams, drops him on his desk, and grabs her things.

“Uh, I’m sorry?” he says. “Did I cross a line?”

“I’m leaving, Jax. Have a good _night_ , Jax.”

“Aw, come on, Dylan—”

But she’s gone. Out the door and heading to her car. She’s been cooped up in her office and in classrooms all week. Her answer from PBS and even Interstellar Daily should have been in her inbox by now, but it’s radio silence from both. Dylan pulls out of the parking lot, but going home seems stupid. It’s late, but she knows last classes at the gym end at ten, so she just _goes._ She has clothes in her trunk, she has too much energy — it doesn’t matter who’s teaching, what’s happening, Dylan just needs to _move._

By the time she’s in the gym, though, it’s pretty clear the place is practically empty. She groans and turns to go back to her car —

“Andrews?”

Dylan turns, and Carolina is coming out of one of the rooms.

“Uh, hi.”

Carolina laughs. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was, um.” Dylan swallows. “It’s been a crazy week and I had to miss classes and I thought someone might be teaching something.”

Carolina shakes her head. “No, I just finished my last one. Had to close up for management tonight.” She steps closer. “You okay?”

“Um, yeah? Yeah, I’m good. It’s just been a really stressful week. Stressful year, honestly, but.”

“Right, I get that.” Carolina glances behind. “Look, it’s just you and me. You want to hit the bag for a bit? No one—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Dylan says, louder than she meant.

“Alright, relax. Come on, you can use this room.” Dylan trails after her. Carolina pats one of the bags hanging against the wall. “You go nuts, alright?”

Dylan nods. When Carolina’s out of the room, she changes quick, wraps and gloves her hands, and starts working. It’s another five minutes before Carolina comes back. Dylan can see her approaching in the mirror.

“We’ve talked about this Andrews. Fix your stance.”

“I’m not in class.”

“Poor practice makes for poor performance.”

Dylan almost argues, but Carolina puts her hands on Dylan’s waist, adjusting her form. She’s so _close_ , close enough that Dylan can see where the sweat still edges along her brow, where it makes her shirt cling to her waist. Dylan looks up to the mirror, and Carolina is, too.

“Better?”

Dylan nods. “Yeah. Better.” She drops her arms.

“Hey, don’t give up. It’s just a little feedback.”

“I know.” Dylan takes a breath, raises her arms again, but Carolina is pushing them back down. “What?”

“Do you need to talk about something? You’re...off, today. I can’t pretend to know you, but I’d like to call you a friend.”

Dylan shakes her head. “It’s fine. It’s nothing, honestly.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” Carolina steps back and sits down on the mat. “Come on.”

For a moment, Dylan considers just walking out. She came here to work things out with her body, not talk about how she’s terrified of failing and afraid of the future with a woman she has a completely inappropriate crush on. But fine. This works, too. She yanks off her gloves, sits down, and lets it all spill.

Carolina’s a great listener. She nods and makes the right faces, asks questions when she should. It really _shouldn’t_ feel as good as it does, but as Dylan talks and pulls the wrappings off her hands, she feels...lighter, than she did before. She certainly no longer feels that _thrumming_ beneath the skin, the sort of desperate need to attack and attack until she feels better.

Feels good, actually.

“You look a little better,” Carolina says. “I’m sorry things have been so tough lately.”

“It’ll pass,” Dylan says.

“Well, I’m here, you know. If you need something.”

Dylan nods. “Yeah, I, um. I appreciate that.”

They sit quietly for a moment before Carolina takes a breath and says, “I think I need to tell _you_ something. I honestly had no intention of doing it tonight, but I had to close, and then you showed up and that just...that feels like it matters, to me.” She leans in a bit. “I have a _terrible_ crush on you.”

Dylan blinks. “You do.”

“Yeah. I’ve kept it to myself, I’ve tried to sort of stay aloof about it, but it just keeps... _growing._ And I feel like it’s going to reach a point where I won’t be able to hide it, and you’ll notice, and I just. I needed to tell you. Like I said. Neither of us was supposed to be here today. Sort of like—”

“Fate,” Dylan says, and closes the distance between them.

It’s stress, definitely, that makes her do it, but it’s the soft sound Carolina makes when Dylan brings a hand behind her neck that makes her keep going. Carolina leans in and Dylan lays back happily, the kiss drawing itself into a languid, elegant thing that she wants to go forever.

Dylan tips her head back and Carolina kisses down the length of her neck, dragging her tongue across the hollow of her throat and to her collar bone. She nips at the skin and Dylan gasps. She slides her fingers through Carolina’s hair, tugging gently to encourage more of the same. It’s moving fast, Dylan _knows_ this, but —

Carolina pulls back. “I just want to clarify. The feeling is mutual, right? This isn’t just an adrenaline thing?”

Dylan sits up on her elbows. Her brain is foggy, she’s _beyond_ aroused, and no one is kissing her anymore.

“Do you ask stupid questions like that a lot?”

“When cute girls are involved, yes,” Carolina says, before grinning and giving Dylan a shove.

Dylan lays back again, Carolina’s face in her hands as they kiss and kiss and _kiss_. If she’s going to have to blow off some steam, this isn’t the worst way to do it.

It’s getting heavier, now. Carolina’s hands slide under Dylan’s tank top, and one pulls down her bra to gently roll a nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Dyan moans at the touch, arches into it, wants there to be _more_ of it —

And then Carolina laughs. Stops what she’s doing.

Dylan is, frankly, appalled.

“ _What?_ What is so funny?”

“It’s...nothing,” Carolina says. “Just something a friend told me the other day.” She sits up. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

Dylan sits up after her. “Okay.”

“Come on.” Carolina helps them both to their feet. “Let’s go back to my place. I think maybe we need to talk a little more.” Dylan nods, kisses her one more time. “...And do that. We, uh. We definitely need to do that.”

Dylan grins and bends to gather up her things, hearing a low whistle from behind her.

“Are you _objectifying_ me?”

Carolina laughs. “In those pants?” She comes over and takes Dylan’s bag. “Absolutely.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Wash says. “I see you’ve acted.” At the bar, Dylan and Tucker are buying a round of drinks, chatting easily with one another. Wash reaches over and takes Carolina’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “How’s it going?”

Carolina grins. “It’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She takes Wash’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you for your encouragement.”

“Not a problem. Glad to help in the endless quest to get you laid.”

“And the moment is ruined.”

Tucker and Dylan return, laden down with drinks. It’s a good night to be with friends, to look over and see Dylan talk excitedly about her internship, about her upcoming graduation. It’s a good night to walk back to Dylan’s place together, to press her against the door and kiss her while she scrambles for the key. To lay out in her bed and revel in a never ending kiss.

There were things she was afraid of, before. And, Carolina supposes, things she is still afraid of now. But all that is natural, she figures, and all of that is expected.

Besides, it’s really not so bad when you’ve got someone to face your fears with. And, really, that’s all anyone can ask for.


End file.
